An Ever-Present Reality
by Silverly
Summary: How do you deal with a stubborn German, the overwhelming realisation that you are, in fact, a weakling, and a strangely familiar girl and boy who keep appearing in your dreams and are slowly taking over your very existence? Feliciano Vargas has all of these problems, and the question above is valid. Seriously. How do you deal with all this. He really doesn't know.
1. Prologue

_Whooo, a new story!_

 _When will the others return from the war-_

 _There's really not much else I need to say here, except be prepared for fluff, angst, and lots of confusion!_

* * *

"Ah, so it's you at last! Well, we shouldn't be saying at last because it really shouldn't have happened so early… or at all, honestly."

The child heard a familiar, yet peculiar voice speak those words to him. The voice seemed to speak in unison with multiple others, echoing throughout the area the two were in.

Speaking of which, where was he?

His sharp blue eyes snapped open, looking around, seeing nothing but a realm of monochrome. The skies were white, the grass was grey and there was no real colour to be found anywhere. At least, aside from where the voice had come from.

He looked up, seeing a kindly smiling figure towering over him, dressed in golden armor, a red clock flowing freely over his shoulders, and an odd cut on his neck from which blood poured out and then faded away, disappearing completely. This figure seemed all too familiar with the addition of his voice, but it couldn't be…

"Roma?"

"Well, it seems he's finally woken up! Sacrum Romanum Imperium, how have you been?"

"So it is you!" He gasped. "Why are you here, where are we? …Is this a dream?"

"Well yes, we've been doing quite fine as well, thanks for asking, but anyways, no, this is not a dream."

"Then, what's going on?"

"Well, this realm we're in here is the Astral Plane, the place where spirits like us are taken to the afterlife by the soul collector, normally Germania since he never talked much, but not in this case."

"Wait, spirits? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, to put this in the simplest of terms… you're dead."

In that moment, the child had fainted.

・・・

"Hey… Hey! Hey, wake up!" He shouted.

The child, still disoriented, finally awoke after God knows how long he'd been out. He sat up, rubbing his head on the spot where it had hit the ground.

"What happened…?"

"Well, we said you were dead, and then you passed out."

His eyes widened in shock and he looked sick, about ready to pass out again. "Roma" seemed to have noticed this.

"Oh, _please_ don't do this again, we don't have enough time for this! We're not even supposed to be here!"

"If I'm apparently dead, then aren't I _supposed_ to be here?"

"Well you are, but _we_ aren't. Germania was the one who was supposed to be doing this, but God allowed us to guide you just this once, you know, since it was you, of course!"

"So then why do you keep saying we?"

"Alright, that's the last question you get before we have to start walking. We- er- I represent the entire empire, including all those who died with the titles of Roman citizens. I speak with all their voices, even if mine happens to be louder than the rest. So, I find it fitting to say 'we.' It's simply become a habit now."

"So then why don't I-"

"Ah, ah, ah! No more questions, we need to go, like, now!" "Roma" said, taking the child's hand and leading him down a white path that seemed to form out of nowhere, the grass spreading apart to make way for the two souls.

They walked together for a while in a moderately comfortable silence, until they came upon a bridge. It possessed no siderails, only small red flowers on its edges. It rested over a large chasm that seemed to go down forever. On the other side the horizon seemed to open itself, creating a portal to the after life. For a second, the child hesitated crossing over it.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-no, I just… Nevermind. I was just thinking."

"It's fine if you want to tell us, it's not like this fear hasn't happened before. Germania tells us all the time; people aren't always the most comfortable with having to die…."

"Well, I… I just remembered someone. If I leave, then… Then I'll never be able to see her again. I… I'll have lied to her."

"Ah, so it's this issue. Well, there's really no turning back, so we should cross over now, so you can get over it sooner. We know you'll miss her but we can tell that she'll still love you, so at least there's no worrying about that."

"Well, I guess you're right… let's just do it now!"

"That's the spirit! …No pun intended."

However, when he tried to cross over, the portal had rejected him, tossing him back onto the bridge.

"What… What happened?"

"Ah, he'd warned us about this as well… did you ever actually tell this girl that you loved her?"

"Yes, of course! But… I why won't it let me cross?"

"Just try again, maybe it was just some sort of weird accident."

He did, and instead of tossing him onto the middle of the bridge, he'd accidentally gone at an angle, and had landed on the edge. Half of his body dangled into the chasm, but he couldn't manage to climb up, and from there, he plummeted to his possible doom.

"Holy Rome!"

・・・

"Oh, you're back already. So, how'd it go?"

"Bad, horrible, terrible, just really, really bad! We messed up, why did you ever think it was a good idea to let us do this, you know we can't handle the stress, we don't care how much we begged, that was a horrible decision!"

"Calm down, calm down! Now, just tell me what happened."

"He… He fell, Germania. Th-the portal tossed him away, and - and he fell!"

At the very mention of this, all of the blood drained out of his face, leaving it as pale as ever.

"What? What is it? Why do you look so scared? What happens if people fall? Do they-"

"No, they don't. However, if the portal rejected him, then he would've had to fall anyway."

"Wh-what?"

"The chasm there leads to purgatory, where he'll have to relive his death until he somehow completes anything in his life that was left unfinished, so he can actually be put to rest. How, I don't know… but he just has to."

"But he told us he's already told someone that he loved her, and he'd never mentioned anything else, so what's else could there possibly- oh."

"What?"

"He also told us that if he crossed over, he will have lied to her… whatever that means."

"Oh, I see. Well… we're relatively lucky that his task involves a person, because I know a way he can complete it… if this girl is able to go along with it."

"Then we'll do it! We got him into this mess, and we're gonna get him out of it!" Roma said, turning around and determinedly striding away to go talk to the big man himself.

"Wait, wait, this isn't something you can just simplify like that!" Germania warned, receiving no response.

" _Imperium Romanum_ , you get back here this instant!"

* * *

 _Aww hell naw, he let that baby fall? And he didn't listen to Germania?_

 _There's only one thing I've got to say, and that is: THUG LIFE. WOO!_

 _x_


	2. His Astral Plane

_"Italia, I promise that no matter what, that one day, I will come back! Always remember that."_

 _At those words, the child he called Italia actually believed him, and sincerely would, no matter how much it wavered, for the rest of both their lives._

 _Italia reached out for him, to hug him before he would depart, but couldn't, for all of a sudden, he vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. She didnt have any time to worry about him, however, because all of a sudden, she was cast into a void of nothingness._

 _Within it, a grey something that she assumed to be grass covered the ground, whilst the sky was as white and pure as fresh snow. There was no sign of anything for miles. So, devoid of any feeling aside from confusion, she decided that there wasn't anything she could do except for simply... walk._

 _Italia roamed around aimlessly for a while, until finally, she came upon a bridge, or something like that. It ran across a chasm that appeared endless and only seemed to grow darker and darker the farther down it went. This bridge unfortunately had no guard rails, in place of them only small roses, their colour reminiscent of fresh blood. Since behind her was nothing, she chose to wander over the bridge, hoping that she would find at least something._

 _Well, she did._

 _The millisecond her foot touched the grass on the other side, the nothingness in front of her became haunting. The on her side turned black, the grass vanished, leaving a bare, cracked wasteland filled with weeds, and before her, the lifeless bodies of dead soldiers littered the ground around her._

 _In the midst of it all, facing the other way, stood the boy that was taken from her not too long ago. She ran up to him, to surprise him with a hug, but she was stopped in her tracks once he turned around, revealed to be clutching his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers and pooling out, then disappearing in wisps._

 _"I... Italia?" He gasped, shock showing clearly on his face, showing even through his wince of pain. "What are you doing here?"_

 _"I... I don't know, really. But why are you here? What's going on? Where are we?"_

 _"There's no time for that! Italia, you have to get out of here, now!"_

 _"But I need to-"_

 _"I don't care what you think you need, you don't know that! What you need is to leave now!"_

 _"I... I can't leave you!"_

 _"Please, Italia... don't worry about me. You just have to go, n-" He was stopped mid-speech when on his neck appeared one thin, red line. Blood ran out of it and then vanished, much like his previous wound._

 _He then fell to the ground his chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow breaths. Italia crouched down next to him, not realising that she was crying until she saw tear drops fall on the boy's clothing._

 _"No, please, don't go! Please, I'm scared..."_

 _"I'm sorry, Italia, but I... I can't..."_

 _"You can't die, I need you!"_

 _"I'm sorry, but you'll live without me, I promise. Please, don't cry- just remember that I... I-"_

 _"You what? Tell me!"_

 _It was too late - his breaths had stopped completely, and the light had gone from his eyes._

 _Then, he disappeared, his body dissolving into white rose petals and blowing away in the wind, leaving behind only his uniform._

 _Italia clutched the uniform and held it tightly, letting her tears fall freely onto it._

 _"No... No, this isn't fair... this wasn't supposed to happen! Come back! Bring him back please!" She cried out to the heavens, hoping that he would somehow return. "Please! Give him back! I'm sorry! Please, please, please..."_

"Come back!" Veneziano shouted, waking up, not realising that he was only hugging his pillow.

Looking down, he let go of the poor pillow and started to take in his surroundings. There was no sign of that realm of white whatsoever. He was still in his bed, the blankets anywhere except for on top of him. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the moon outside his window. He didn't really understand what happened - how did he end up here? Unless... maybe it was a dream?

 _'But... but it felt so real...'_ he thought. _'It couldn't have been a dream! Not this time! At least, he couldn't have been.'_

He flopped back down, hiding his face in the pillow he was holding.

 _'And maybe, there was a time where he never was...'_

He growled into the pillow. "Why is this happening to me! Why does he keep coming back... and why won't he just stay? Can't he make up his mind?"

It wasn't that he felt anything for the boy, after all, he didn't even know his name. Really, the only thing he knew was that he was German, and that was only from his accent. But for some reason, he just kept appearing in his dreams, and had been for a while now, whether it be that he was simply in the background or the dream was actually centered around him. He was just always... well, there. Lately, it seemed that it was becoming even worse, for this was the second time he'd woken up shouting something.

The problem was, he just didn't understand why.

"Why must you hurt me in this way, you unknown person!"

It was then that the door swung open, revealing Veneziano's friend, Germany, standing there, tired, but still alert.

And Veneziano realised that he'd kinda forgotten that he was visiting Germany's house since the world conference was being held there in a few days.

"I heard shouting - are you okay, Veneziano?"

How was he supposed to explain what just happened? He was a really bad liar, and it would be even worse, considering this was the second time it happened, but if he actually told, Germany wouldn't believe him and would probably think he was crazy. So, the best option was to just lie.

"Oh, it's nothing! You... you were probably just hearing things!"

"Yes, and what I heard the other day was also my imagination, correct?

Oh, right. He'd already used that excuse.

"Well... this is obviously forming some sort of pattern. There's nothing wrong here! I'm... I'm fine, I swear! Please, Germany... Don't worry about me." Man, this unknown boy has really been taking over Veneziano's life. First his dreams, and now his quotes! What's next, his friends as well?

"Italien, please don't lie to me. I don't believe that I am losing my mind, and making me think such things isn't helping you."

"Germany, I'm, okay, seriously. Would I ever lie to you?"

Veneziano was getting a bit tired of pleading with his friend at this point. Why must Germans always be so stubborn?

His eyebrow twitched with annoyance for a second, but it was quickly waved away. He simply huffed and said "Fine, I'll believe you. But if I hear you shouting again, I have the right to assume the worst."

Veneziano smiled and saluted the other, and then watched as he walked away, sighing in relief. He then fell back, still smiling because he was able to convince someone so smart.

Now was the problem, however. Germany would know for sure that something was up if he woke up shouting again. There was really no way to stop a person from appearing in your dreams, especially if said person has really been trying to shoehorn himself in there for no apparent reason. He sighed once again.

Why must Germans always be so stubborn?

* * *

 _Haha, did you catch that double entendre there?_

 _Haha, did you catch the fact that I'm probably not using that term right?_

 _Haha, yiss._

 _x_


	3. A White Crayon

_Note: This breakfast scene is kind of filler, so skip it if you want. (Not the entire chapter, though. If you skip it, you'll probably be more confused than you already are.) But, uh, this will escalate... very quickly._

* * *

"Italien, about last night..."

"It was nothing, Germany. Just let it go, please?"

Veneziano, Germany, and his brother Prussia all sat around the kitchen table, enjoying their breakfast on one fine morning.

So, why exactly did the German have to bring that up again? Seriously, they had come to a compromise, hadn't they?

At Veneziano's response, there was a strange hissing sound that they'd both recognized as Prussia's laughter.

"Kesesesese~! Is that so? What exactly is this thing that you don't want to speak about? Is it-"

"Bruder, please do not finish that sentence."

"Oh, come on, West! You're no fun. And besides, everyone knows for certain that-"

"Let me rephrase my request. Do not finish that sentence if you would like to live long enough to finish your breakfast."

The two nations stared each other down, bright blue eyes meeting red. The tense air was then shattered to pieces, once Veneziano posed a question.

"Wait, what is it that everyone was supposed to know?"

"Well, little Veneziano, your seemingly rough and tough friend over here just happens to have-"

If looks could kill, the glare that Germany was currently giving his brother through his slight blush would've probably made him turn to dust and blown away in the wind, never to be seen or heard from again.

It didn't, but Prussia still got the "if you dare say another syllable, I will murder you so violently that even our ancestors will feel it" sort of vibe, so he quickly shut up.

Germany had also been a "tad" cranky after not getting enough sleep after being woken up by Veneziano in the midst of the night, then not being able to rest properly since then.

"I... uh... nevermind." He muttered, stuffing a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

Veneziano was somewhat disappointed at not getting to find out, but continued eating anyways.

The trio sat in a comfortable silence for a while, until finally, it ended, and a knock on the door from a certain Asian nation suggested that it was time for training.

(The war was over and had been over for a long time, but Germany had still insisted that the Italian was most definitely not in shape. But he figured what better way to help himself than with his friends? He'd also kind of forced Japan to go with him, but not really forced, because come on, who can say no to that face?)

'Oh, Dios mio, not again...' Veneziano protested internally. It'd been quite a while since they first started this, but the Italian still was far from used to it.

Prussia seemed to have noticed this, because he then stated "Don't worry, Vene~! I'll do this with you guys this time!"

"Really?"

It was surprising since Prussia wouldn't normally train with them, especially not after... well, he didn't like to talk about that, but they all understood. However, over time, he'd grown quite fond of the Italian, and saw him as a second little brother, so the fact that he was doing this for him was somewhat understandable, but still considerably odd.

"Prussia, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you haven't done this since-"

"Ah, West, always worrying about everyone! It's fine, your strong, awesome brother will be here to protect all you not-as-strong, slightly less awesome babies, don't worry about it."

He sighed heavily, which Prussia simply laughed at.

"Besides, how else am I supposed to prove my total amazingness if I don't assist those in need of me!"

"But we didn't say we needed you."

"Look, are we going to just engage in meaningless banter just to up the word count, or are we going to actually get something done?"

"Prussia-san is right, Germany, we should really go now." Japan said, in his usual monotone voice.

With no more useless banter, the quartet strode out of the house, and in the end, trained until lunchtime came around.

Well, at least, that's what was supposed to happen. (It would take this long seeing as no one except Germany, and possibly Japan was competent enough for this.)

What really happened was that Prussia ended up annoying Germany out of his mind, and since they were brothers, Germany couldn't bring himself to be aggressive towards him.

However, bottling your emotions for hours on end on top of pent up anger from before can really take its toll on a guy, even if said guy happens to be a nation.

Whilst they were running laps, it had been around hour eleventy-seven. (Italy and Japan had long since lost count from exhaustion, Germany from anger, and Prussia wasn't even counting in the first place.) Germany and Prussia seemed to be having a sort of one-sided race, with Prussia wasting his breath throwing stupid, purposefully aggravating taunts his brother's way. Lagging behind both them and Japan was none other than the Italian, having no breath to waste in the first place.

"Come on, Italien!" Germany barked, knowing that Veneziano was far behind without even looking back. "The faster we get through this, the faster we can eat!"

Suddenly, he heard footsteps quickening behind him, but not quite catching up to him. At least Veneziano wasn't last anymore.

'Why is food the only thing he seems to value?' Germany thought angrily. 'He's virtually useless without it, how is he even a nation?'

"Germany!" Veneziano shouted, panting heavily between words. "Can we please take a break now?"

Germany then stopped in his tracks, allowing the other three to run right pass him, giving his annoyance-induced thoughts a chance to fester and boil within his mind.

 _Veneziano was useless. He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't comprehend the simplest of commands, he added nothing to this world. He was weak. They were only "friends" out of sympathy. He didn't even deserve to represent an entire nation._

 _There was no point to his existence._

It was in that moment that the bottle containing all this pent up hatred and wrath was at last unscrewed, and anyone was vulnerable.

However, in this case, Veneziano was his main target.

Germany sprinted, making a beeline for the Italian, a low growl slowly evolving into a shout the closer he'd gotten to him. Hearing this, Veneziano knew that he was in deep trouble, and he'd somehow managed to screw up within the eight words he'd said.

He immediately went into panic mode, and started running as fast as his legs could carry him, while at the same time, panting and pleading with Germany to forgive him for… whatever he'd done.

"Germany, please forgive me, I'm sorry for asking! We don't have to take a break, I'll keep running! I'm really sorry!"

Alas, these pitiful pleas had done nothing to appease the German, for it had only made him run faster than before. And in a matter of mere seconds, he'd caught up to the Italian, and, blinded by pure unforgiving rage, whilst unaware of his own strength because of it, he'd tackled him to the ground, sliding a few feet from the force of it alone.

"Germany, I-I'm sorry, please stop!" He tried again, reaching in his pocket and taking out a small white flag that he'd always carried around, "just in case."

Sadly, this did not work either, because the instant his "friend" had laid eyes on it, he'd snatched it out of his hand and easily snapped it in two.

"Why, Italien, why do you always do this? Why must you always surrender, can't you stand up for yourself?! Answer me, damn it!"

Veneziano was speechless - there was nothing he could say except for random syllables and sounds, for two reasons: One, he was scared as all hell, and two, if he wasn't, he still couldn't answer because he didn't exactly know his reason in the first place. Why _was_ he always so scared?

"Of course, you cannot even answer a simple question! I should have expected that - you are completely useless! You were worth nothing to us then and you're still worth nothing now! Hell, even your brother is more competent than you are!"

That one definitely stung. For one, his brother, Romano hated Germany, and it was obvious that the feeling was mutual, so the fact that he was actually sort of complimenting him really said something. For two, he knew that "back then" meant World War II. Yes, he'd surrendered to the allies but he thought that for the time he was fighting that he was doing… _something._ He thought he added at least _something_ to their team!

"I can't understand why whatever force controls this ever decided that you should be a nation! You can't even take care of yourself properly! Yet still, it seems that the only thing you care about is you! You'd probably leave your friends in the middle of a desert if it meant that you would be saved! That brings me to another point- I can't believe I'd ever agree to be friends, or even allies with someone as idiotic as you!"

Veneziano's heart probably stopped in his chest right then and there. He was just saying things he didn't mean… right? They were still friends, if not best friends, weren't they?

"I was only friends with you because I felt sorry for you." Germany said, the sudden calm in his voice very unsettling. "Why it spiraled into this, I can't say. But what I do know is that you are a spineless, unnecessary pushover. And no one in their right mind would ever-"

He stopped himself, his eyes widening once he realised that the Italian was actually crying beneath him. The words he said, he thought he didn't mean them, but if they apparently came out this harshly… there must have been some truth to them.

He tore his eyes from this pitiful sight to look in front of him. He saw Japan, in a stance that would allow him to attack easily if needed, and Prussia, his expression a look of pure confusion.

He looked back at Veneziano, his bright blue eyes suddenly holding copious amounts fear and regret.

"I-Italien… I-"

He was cut off by the sudden motion of Veneziano throwing him off and onto the ground, then sprinting back into the house and slamming the door at a profusely loud volume.

He'd tried to get back up , but was suddenly stopped by Prussia who stood firmly in his way.

"Prussia, _what_ are you doing?"

His next few words held nothing aside from contempt for his younger brother.

"No, West, what is it that _you_ did. You're always worrying about what other people do, but now it's my turn to worry about you. See, I don't know what you said to him, nor do I really even care, but Ludwig," Prussia said, a steely glare settling on his features, "You need to fix this. _**Now**_."

And with that, he walked away, Japan following close behind saying nothing, but a look on his face that seemed to struggle between sympathy and great disappointment.

Germany simply sighed and laid down on the soft blades of grass from his sitting position, attempting to recall what had just happened.

He was too distressed to even try to fix between them anything that day.

・・・

Late at night, Veneziano sat sketching quietly in his room, the incident still fresh in his mind. At this point, he'd felt about as useful as one of his art supplies - in particular, the white crayon.

So basically, not at all.

Japan had already gone back to the hotel that the rest of the countries were staying in, but he'd refused to leave. There was just something that was keeping him there, even after the rant that just wouldn't leave him alone. Prussia had occasionally come to check on him, but Veneziano wouldn't even open the door - he just replied with "I'm fine," and waited for him to leave.

He'd considered staying at the hotel, but the mysterious force that possessed him to stay said otherwise.

Ugh, just thinking about this right now got him frustrated, not even his art was helping him calm down right now. He flipped to a fresh page and started again, sharp, anger-induced lines marked the page, so quick that Veneziano didn't really even know what he was drawing. At least, not until he was finished with it.

It was revealed to be a person with a quite obvious resemblance to a certain blond, blue-eyed, and apparently hard-hearted German.

At this realisation, he dropped his pencil, and rested his head on the desk. Why did it have to be him, out of all the people he could've drawn? It could've even been Russia and it wouldn't matter that much! He sighed.

What was it about him that possessed him to draw that? Was it the same mysterious force that wanted him to stay here? All these unknown forces were really starting to wear Veneziano out and he really didn't want to be a part of this anymore.

His eyelids became heavy as he rested his head. Maybe if he went to sleep, this would all be over, and he could resume his life like normal.

Well, as long as that strange little boy doesn't appear in his dreams again.

 _'Why can't these mysterious beings just get a life and leave mine alone?'_ He thought desperately.

And, with that being the last thought in his head that day, he fell asleep.

* * *

 _Eyy, did you catch that fourth wall break? Prussia strikes again, amirite?_

 _Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! None of the actual characters did._

 _x_


	4. One of Many Painful Truths

_WARNING! There is some major angst, as well as an angry little Italian. But not the one you're thinking of. Also this dream sequence thing is getting kinda depressing. But there's some fluff! But there's no confession. Sorrynotsorry!_

* * *

 _"No matter what may happen to me, Italia, someday, I will surely return. It will be okay, I promise."_

 _The boy's words seemed to echo all around the child he called Italia, blocking out everything else, almost as if they were the only thing that mattered. To this child, they truly were. This boy was the most important thing in her life and she really believed that this war could not tear them apart, no matter what._

 _Although Italia was worried sick, she still smiled brightly, reaching out to hug the other before he departed. Before he could, however, the boy disappeared, and she was suddenly cast into a realm of nothingness, its colors fading from white to black as she finally hit the ground, left isolated with only her own thoughts._

 _She really had no idea what to do now. Where in the world was she? Maybe she wasn't even_ _**in**_ _the world for all she knew! She shouted_ _out for help in desperation, and for a split second, she thought that someone responded, but she wouldn't be able to tell - it was a jumble of familiar voices, belonging to those she couldn't quite name._

 _Italia couldn't really make out exactly what they were saying, but what she could hear threw her farther into her sudden dark corner than she'd ever expected. The words were full of poison, each letter laced with a loathing of only the purest quality._

 _ **"Worthless…"**_

 _ **"Pushover…"**_

 _ **"Spineless**_ … _"_

 _"Stop!" Italia shouted, covering her ears to try and block out these voices so filled with acid. However, it did nothing, for they echoed throughout this darkness and seemed only to get louder after she'd said this._

 _ **"Coward!"**_

 _ **"Useless!"**_

 _ **"Idiotic!"**_

 _"I'm sorry!" He tried to appease the voices by apologizing for whatever he's apparently done, which really didn't help in the slightest._

 _ **"Unnecessary!"**_

 _ **"Weakling!"**_

 _ **"Pathetic!"**_

 _What was going on? Why did all of these things have to happen to her? She was a good Catholic girl, she was kind to everyone, so why did these people hate her so much? These random people that she so vaguely remembered were trying to break her down, piece by piece, for a reason unknown, and unfortunately, it was working very well._

 _Suddenly, the boy who she'd given all of his affections to returned out of thin air, much to Italia's relief. Italia reached out to him in hopes of some chance of leaving this depressing place, which were shattered and then ran over with a carriage three times and then spit upon by his next few words._

 _ **"Do not ever touch me again."**_ _He stated firmly, snatching his arm away as if Italia had caught some sort of disease._

 _"Wh- what…?"_

 _ **"I said, do not touch me. Or are you so incompetent that you can't even understand what I'm saying?"**_

 _"No, no, this… this wasn't supposed to happen either!" Why was he saying either? "Whatever I did, I'm sorry, but I thought… I thought you-"_

 _"_ _ **You thought I loved you?"**_ _A humorless laugh escaped his throat._ _ **"Oh, Italia**_ … _" The boy leaned closely into the child's face, his fake smile being replaced with a very cold expression._ _ **"Who on earth would ever love anything as pathetic as you?"**_

 _With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Italia all alone once again._

 _After the encounter, the voices returned, louder and more prevalent than ever. Italia's attempts to cease them were half-hearted, because there was some part inside of him that knew that their words were true, and there was no use in denying them. But still, he covered his ears and at least tried._

 _"Please, stop… please…" He whispered, his voice somewhat hoarse._

 _"Stop… Stop…!"_

"SHUT UP!" Veneziano practically screamed, his ears still covered as he shot up from his resting position at the desk.

Hearing no response, he opened one eye. The room wasn't dark - the lights were still on and there were no voices, the only sound being a clock steadily ticking on the wall near him.

"Oh dios mio, not again!" He wined, resting his head in his hands.

Looking over, he saw his sketchbook next to him, turned to the page of the drawing he'd done… wait, was it the next day already?

He looked outside the window to his left - still a night sky, but the clock told him it was three in the morning.

He looked down to his drawing, sighing at what he'd seen.

"Oh, right…" He said.

He still didn't know why he had to draw _him_. Maybe it was because he was the only thing on the Italian's mind that night, since he'd gotten so angry at him.

But… Veneziano couldn't be angry, because he kind of _was_ telling the truth, as much as he didn't want to admit it. It was a very painful truth, but one nonetheless.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing the he in question.

"Oh no, Germany-"

"Veneziano, you told me that if you shouted again, I could assume the worst. Now tell me, what's going on?"

"It's nothing. I told you that already."

"No, you mean that you _lied_ to me already. I'm not going to ask you this again, what's going on."

"It is _nothing._ Besides, even if it _was_ something, I wouldn't need your help to deal with it anyways."

Germany was taken aback by this sudden attitude out of his normally cheerful Italian. Seriously, what was happening to him?

Wait, _his_ Italian?

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? Or are you as incompetent and idiotic as you've apparently made me out to be all these years?!" Veneziano retorted, his words coming out louder and harsher than he'd intended them to be."

Oh, so that's what this was about.

"Look, Veneziano… what I said, I didn't mean any of that! I … I just wasn't thinking!"

"Oh, so that must explain why you ever decided to be friends with me!" He said sharply, standing up and wheeling around to face the other nation. "Because apparently, no one in their right mind would ever let it spiral into whatever this is, isn't that right, Germany?!" His voice only continued to increase in volume, even beginning to get quite shrill as he said all this. It felt… good to actually yell at him for once, after all the times he'd been shouted at.

"Veneziano, I didn't mean what I said, just calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Ludwig!" He snapped, surprising Germany by using his human name. Normally it would be used in a friendly, loving way, not when he was trying to hurt him like this.

"How am I supposed to calm down, when that's exactly what you hate about me?!"

"V-Veneziano… I don't-"

"You always tell me that I'm too relaxed, that I need to stand up for myself, and now that I'm doing that, you don't want me to! How do I please you? I can't! This is an impossible task you're asking me to do, and you've never told me how to do it!"

"I never asked you to do anything for me! And I don't hate you, or anything about you, you don't need to fix anything about yourself, so stop insisting that you have to!"

"But.. But I do! I need to fix _everything_ about myself, because I hate all of it! All of those things you said about me were true and I hate it!" Angry tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes. "I know that I'm weak, but I've always thought that I was able to do… _something_! According to you, however, I wasn't. And I hoped that no one would tell me that, but you did, and it's true. After all, who would ever love anything as pathetic as me?"

He smiled softly, but it didn't reach his eyes which were dull and lifeless compared to their normal state.

Suddenly, he was pulled into a tight hug from his friend, which was surprising since he was often very particular about his boundaries.

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way, Feliciano." He said quietly. "But I wasn't thinking about what I said when I did. You don't need to change a thing about yourself. You don't need to hate anything about yourself, either. I don't so you really shouldn't. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." He pulled away from Veneziano.

"And I hope that you can forgive me for it."

Veneziano just couldn't help the smile that snaked its way across his face.

"Oh, Ludwig!" He exclaimed, returning the favor and supplying his friend with a loving hug.

Germany may have been too stressed to do anything on the day of the incident, but the clock told him it was three in the morning and it was the next day.

But it really didn't matter anyways, because they're good now.

* * *

 _Yay, they're all happy and we can all get along!_

 _But not for long..._

 _Hehehe..._

 _x_


End file.
